


where they belong

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [17]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: “I am so sorry, Bedelia. You shouldn’t have waited-” the words perish on his lips as he crosses the threshold and falls silent immediately, stricken by the sight that has awaited him.





	where they belong

The door closes quietly behind him, the silence of the dark hallway instinctively sharpening his senses, even though the castle is tranquil in its undisturbed sleep. It is late, much later than he expected to return; he feels a sharp twinge of guilt at the thought of Bedelia having dinner all by herself.  

He makes his way towards the stairs when a faint aura of illumination catches his attention; the library lights are still on. A stronger remorse makes his chest tighten as he swiftly moves towards the source of the light.

“I am so sorry, Bedelia. You shouldn’t have waited-” the words perish on his lips as he crosses the threshold and falls silent immediately, stricken by the sight that has awaited him.

He finds Bedelia lying on a sofa, robe tied loosely around her body. Her legs are half stretched, half bend, as if she was running in her sleep, her head curved on a cushion. Her arm hangs lifelessly over the edge on the upholstery, fingers still grazing the pages of the fallen book, spilled on the floor like a white puddle of cellulose.

Despite his lingering sense of guilt, he cannot help but smile, seeing her like that. Those tiny moments of domesticity will never cease to amaze him; there is magic in every moment they share.

He steps closer, with more caution, his feet silent on the marble floor, his predatory stealth now serving a higher purpose: ensuring he does not wake her. But he does not want to leave her either.

“Bedelia?” his voice is a soft whisper, barely audible, as he makes sure that she is asleep, while leaning forward.

He brushes the hair away from her cheek, an almost involuntary gesture; caressing her is like breathing to him. She does not stir, and Hannibal continues to smile, pausing for a moment to take in the picture. She is a petite frame of blue silk among the burgundy plush and looks so peaceful. This is all he wants; for her to be safe and content.

His fingers now gently enfold her hand, bringing it up to place on his shoulder. He nearly gasps when the hand reaches around his neck, afraid he has awakened her after all. But she remains in deep sleep, her face unmoving; this is nothing more than a muscle memory, one that makes him smile even more as he adjusts the grip of her arm and wraps his arm around her waist. Her head shifts instantly, seeking the warmth of his body and already rests on his shoulder as he lifts her from the couch. She nuzzles his neck, searching for skin beneath the cotton, her arm still holding him tight, while the other dangles without purpose over his other shoulder, unaware of the sudden change of location.

Hannibal tightens his clutch as he brings her legs up, to wrap around his waist. He leaves the library without a second glance back, flipping the light switch on the way out.

Unhurried, he makes his way up the stairs, taking his time with each step. His caution has nothing to do with safety; he would never drop her, even if the steps suddenly vanished from under them. He merely savours the sensation of holding her; the familiar weight of her, nestled closely in his arms. He hears the soothing sound of her breath against his neck, enveloped by her warmth and the scent of honey emanating from her skin. His arms wrap firmer as a sudden wave of emotions crushes over his heart. This is where she belongs.

Finally, he reaches their bedroom, quiet and cool, filled with the aroma of night blooming flowers, filtering through the open window from the garden below, the bed’s canopy fluttering invitingly. He enters the room without turning on the light, not wanting to disturb its stillness. Approaching the bed, he opens the covers with one hand and places Bedelia down with utmost care, rather reluctant to part with the feel of her body against his. Her head finds the pillow at once, her arm resting next to it. The last thing he does is to unwrap her other arm from its secure spot on his neck. A sudden displeased grunt. Bedelia moves, making Hannibal freeze.

“Where are you going?” she murmurs with her one eye peaking open, her hand reaching out to hold him again, as though they were lying in bed together this whole time.

“I will be back in a minute,” he responds simply, deciding it is not the best time to rectify her misconception.

Bedelia closes her eye and pouts, before sinking deeper into her pillow and falling back into slumber. It makes her look endearing and Hannibal’s heart misses several beats before he remembers what he was doing. He steps away and removes his clothes in a blink of an eye, uncaring for folding them properly, then slips back into bed, next to Bedelia. He takes her hand, placing it on his chest, just over his heart, and her body follows instantly, pressing against him.

Hannibal kisses the top of her head, already thinking of the ways to make up for his absence tomorrow. He closes his eyes and sighs with content. This is where he belongs too.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get an image of Hannibal carrying Bedelia to bed out of my head, hence this short fic. I live for little moments like these.  
> This is my 90th post here. A lot of bedannibal goodness. :)


End file.
